brought her to Avonlea. Mrs. Lynde said he was taking a fearful risk in marrying
a Yankee, and it’s certain that Hester was very delicate and a very poor
housekeeper; but mother says she was very pretty and sweet and Jordan just
worshipped the ground she walked on. Well, Mr. Gray gave Jordan this farm and
he built a little house back here and Jordan and Hester lived in it for four years.
She never went out much and hardly anybody went to see her except mother and
Mrs. Lynde. Jordan made her this garden and she was crazy about it and spent
most of her time in it. She wasn’t much of a housekeeper but she had a knack
with flowers. And then she got sick. Mother says she thinks she was in
consumption before she ever came here. She never really laid up but just grew
weaker and weaker all the time. Jordan wouldn’t have anybody to wait on her.
He did it all himself and mother says he was as tender and gentle as a woman.
Every day he’d wrap her in a shawl and carry her out to the garden and she’d lie
there on a bench quite happy. They say she used to make Jordan kneel down by
her every night and morning and pray with her that she might die out in the
garden when the time came. And her prayer was answered. One day Jordan
carried her out to the bench and then he picked all the roses that were out and
heaped them over her; and she just smiled up at him . . . and closed her eyes . . .
and that,” concluded Diana softly, “was the end.”
“Oh, what a dear story,” sighed Anne, wiping away her tears.
“What became of Jordan?” asked Priscilla.
“He sold the farm after Hester died and went back to Boston. Mr. Jabez
Sloane bought the farm and hauled the little house out to the road. Jordan died
about ten years after and he was brought home and buried beside Hester.”
“I can’t understand how she could have wanted to live back here, away from
everything,” said Jane.
“Oh, I can easily understand THAT,” said Anne thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t
want it myself for a steady thing, because, although I love the fields and woods, I
love people too. But I can understand it in Hester. She was tired to death of the
noise of the big city and the crowds of people always coming and going and
caring nothing for her. She just wanted to escape from it all to some still, green,
friendly place where she could rest. And she got just what she wanted, which is
something very few people do, I believe. She had four beautiful years before she
died. . . four years of perfect happiness, so I think she was to be envied more
than pitied. And then to shut your eyes and fall asleep among roses, with the one
you loved best on earth smiling down at you . . . oh, I think it was beautiful!”
“She set out those cherry trees over there,” said Diana. “She told mother she’d